


Old Flames

by claudinedelyon



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Getting Back Together, School Reunion, Sort Of, Ten Years Later, but only in the past, past misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudinedelyon/pseuds/claudinedelyon
Summary: Through sheer bad luck, Martino never receives Nico's post-its or the antidote. The next time they see each other, ten years have passed and they are back in very familiar territory.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	Old Flames

Coming to this thing had been a stupid idea. What does Martino even care about the 20th anniversary of a high school radio that he was only marginally involved in for a year when he was 17? He doesn’t. The problem is that he had made a very basic mistake, and that had been mentioning the invitation to Gio, thinking that they would just laugh about it, that he would then delete the email and that would be it.

But no, Gio had decided that Eva would surely be there, since Facebook had told him she was back from London, and that Martino just had to take him as his plus one. Martino probably owed him that much, at the very least, and he had also received several pointed messages from Sana implying that there was no statute of limitations for hiding drugs on your friend’s rooftop and that he had better be there. Which is why, despite everything, he’s here, at the gates of his old high school, where for each good memory, he has at least as many bad ones, watching people he either doesn’t know or doesn’t remember file in.

Gio gives him an encouraging push and they’ve barely taken ten steps that Eva is right in front of them. They’re already stopping and they haven’t made it inside the building yet. It’s not that Martino is not happy to see her, on the contrary, but it doesn’t take very long for him to start feeling like an unfortunate third wheel again. With a gesture towards the school, he claims that he is going to look for more people they might know and leaves them to it. Inside the school lobby, he takes another good look at the crowd and decides to go wandering off before his resolve crumbles and he starts scanning the faces around him for one particular person.

So, there might be another reason why he hadn't protested that much when Gio suggested they go together.

Despite the more rational part of his brain telling him that the chances of Niccolò being here are probably slim to nonexistent, Martino is still hoping. He has no idea what Nico has been up to since he graduated high school or even if he’s still in Italy, let alone in Rome. Even if he is, he only spent one year here and for most of it, he must have been fielding the same looks, whispers and insults as Martino had. Why would he want to come back here?

Gio doesn’t even know it’s all Martino has been thinking about for the past week and his ignorance cannot be blamed only on him being too wrapped up in his own hopes of seeing Eva. None of the guys have any idea how often Martino still thinks about the guy he had had something that he struggles to name with for barely two weeks in high school. Back then, already, he had stopped talking about it after a while. His friends had tried to be understanding but it was clear that they didn't get it. Truth be told, Martino doesn't get it either.

He walks along the second-floor corridor, trying to decide if the scent of dust and school supplies is making him sentimental or activating his fight-or-flight response. The walls must have been repainted in the ten years since he left school because he remembers them being both a lighter color and more decrepit. Most of the classrooms are locked but he doesn’t particularly want to go in anyway, not until he finds himself staring down a side corridor which ends with a very familiar door.

He pushes the door open, finding it miraculously unlocked, maybe in case anybody felt nostalgic enough to come check out the old, dusty radio booth. The place hasn’t changed one bit except for the newer, if not quite new, equipment that has replaced the old recording setup. He steps up to the window, his heart seizing up the same way it did every time he walked in here after that terrible party, only to find that Nico was never there.

He absentmindedly notices that the window has definitely been reinforced before losing himself in contemplation, his eyes lost somewhere outside. He’s so deep in thoughts that he jumps when a knock comes from behind him. Before he even turns around, he know exactly who it is going to be because of course that would be how they meet again after not having seen each other in ten years.

Nico is standing behind the glass pane that separates the speaker from the rest of the equipment, a small smile on his face and his flair for the theatrics seemingly still intact. Martino blinks and Nico disappears, only to materialize again at the door of the booth, just in front of him.

“Hey, Marti.”

“Hi.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Niccolò says and it’s incredible how quickly Martino can turn back into a tongue-tied 17-year-old again.

“I didn’t know if you would come,” he replies, which is not quite an answer, but is the best he can do for now.

“And miss Osvaldo’s birthday? Who do you take me for?”

Martino’s eyes go to the spot Osvaldo used to occupy, usually behind or by the side of whoever was recording. The stuffed creature is nowhere in sight now. “I think he missed his own birthday.”

“He’s always been wiser than all of us.” Nico walks up to the window and comes to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with Martino. Neither of them speaks for a moment. “Do you want to go up there?" Nico suggests with a nod towards the window. He doesn’t need to specify where, there is only one place where they can go from here.

"The window's completely sealed off."

"There are always other ways."

"I'm not sure that'd be such a good idea." Martino doesn’t mean much by it, simply that he remembers the way to the terrace involving some climbing, and on the off chance that they get caught, he doesn’t particularly feel like explaining why two grown men are traipsing around a school instead of being downstairs with everybody else. But when Nico's face falls a little at his answer, Martino discovers that he can still read him like an open book. He feels a pang of guilt when he realizes how his words might have sounded to Nico’s ears. "What other ways do you know?" He amends, because after all, they’re both here, they both found their way back to the radio booth, and that has got to mean something.

The small smile comes back to Niccolò's face. "Come with me."

Downstairs, Gio and Eva are still in the same spot where Martino left them but more people have arrived in the meantime, so he and Nico manage to sneak past unnoticed easily enough. Niccolò leads him to the back of the school, where Martino doesn’t think he ever set foot, and he does so without hesitation. Martino had never gone back to the terrace, but he wonders now if Nico might have and how often. There’s still some climbing involved and dust, just so much dust that flies around them in a cloud and sticks to their clothes. He tries to brush it off while they walk up the staircase that will lead them to the very top of the school, but it keeps coming back and finding new places to cover, so he gives up. They walk out onto the terrace to the sight of Rome spreading out in front of them.

"Hey, is that San Giovanni over there?" Nico asks, pointing towards the horizon.

The memories of their conversation up on the roof had been pretty fuzzy up until now. Martino remembered mostly sensations, the sun on his skin, the smell of the weed, and a few brief snapshots of Nico next to him, then sitting on the floor or of Emma settling between them. But the second Niccolò utters the words, he's thrown right back to his 17-year-old self again, butterflies coursing through his entire body, itching for this guy to be who Martino thought he might be. He gives Niccolò the most unimpressed look he can muster, which only brings out a grin in response.

"As if you don't know where San Giovanni is."

They lean over the railing to look at the view and Martino feels the most bizarre form of déjà vu. The only difference is that the two kids who didn't know each other yet back then have now turned into two adults who don't know each other anymore.

"You never replied to me," Nico says quietly after a moment of silence, keeping his eyes trained in front of him.

Martino is not surprised the subject ends up coming up, he has been expecting it since their eyes met again through a window pane like they had ten years ago. He is not surprised Nico is the one to bring it up either. He’s not sure he would have figured out how to himself.

"I didn't think there was much to say."

“No?” Nico’s voice sounds small and he looks almost hurt. Martino can’t help a rush of annoyance at his reaction. After all, Nico had been the one to break off this thing between them. Martino had been all in from the start.

"What did you want me to say, Nico? You were the one who wanted to stop. What could I have possibly said?"

Nico frowns and studies him for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

It's Martino's turn to frown. "You sent me a text, right? You didn’t want to see me anymore." He doesn’t remember the exact words, he had deleted their conversation a few weeks later following the advice of his friends, but he remembers their meaning. "Why, what are you talking about?"

Nico pushes himself up and turns to face him. "The post-its? The antidote?" Confused, Martino simply shakes his head when the explanation doesn’t clarify anything. "You don't remember?"

"No, I would remember if you had sent me anything else."

"I put some post-its in your backpack during break one day. And then, I put a vial of antidote in the spine of your dictionary. You know, for the virus," he adds, his voice growing quieter on the last word.

"Ni, I never got anything like that." The nickname slips through his lips way too easily. It's the damn school, being here takes him right back into it and he can't fight it. He doesn't really want to either.

"But I remember…" Nico trails off before looking down.

"Hang on." Martino gestures in Nico’s direction, leaving his hand hanging in midair. There is a memory tugging at the edge of his thoughts, something he would have been hard-pressed to place exactly in his high school experience, but that could easily have happened around that time. He brushes his index against his thumb, as he tries to piece it together: a shove to the shoulder, the thud of a book hitting the floor, the sting in his finger, drops of blood, and the spine of an old, tattered dictionary soaking wet for seemingly no reason. "Did you say the antidote was in a vial?"

"Yes, a little glass vial with some blue liquid in it. I probably should have told you not to drink it actually. It was window cleaner."

Ignoring the last part of Nico’s answer, Martino continues untangling the thread of the memory. "Did you put it in my Latin dictionary?"

Nico visibly searches through his own memories before he answers. "I think so, yes."

"I can't remember when, but some asshole pushed me in the hallway once and I dropped my dictionary. When I picked it up, it was wet and I cut my finger on something. I could never figure out what happened and I had to get a new one after that, the spine completely fell apart."

They look at each other while everything sinks in, how the pieces fit together and with it, how different things could have been for but a simple change in circumstances.

“I'm sorry.” Martino is the first one to break the silence. “I didn't know you reached out."

Niccolò shakes his head minutely. "I should have just talked to you."

"I could have talked to you, too. But I was too angry, I think. Not just at you, I was angry at a lot of things.”

Martino is interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He takes it out to check the caller’s name. When he reads Gio's name on the screen, he gives Nico an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, just give me a minute?”

“Of course.”

Niccolò goes back to leaning against the railway, probably contemplating what he’s just learned. Martino picks up the call.

"Hey, man,” Gio begins. “Where did you disappear to? We’ve been looking for you.”

Martino hesitates for a second before he answers. "I'm up on the terrace."

“Up on the…” Gio takes a moment to put two and two together and he does so impressively quickly. "Are you alone?"

"No."

"I see,” Gio answers, his voice thoughtful. “Is that good or..."

"So far it is,” Martino replies, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what to expect even if Niccolò did respond to the invitation, but he’s already learned more than he would have bet on.

"That's great, man. Eva and I were going to go for a drink, will you be okay or do you want to come with?"

Martino glances at Nico who is now looking at him with his chin resting in his hand. "I think I'll stay."

"Okay. Say hi to Niccolò for me, then," Gio says with a teasing note in his voice.

"Right, and same to Eva," Martino bites back.

"I'll tell you all about it if you tell me."

Martino laughs. The time of hiding Niccolò from his friends is long past and he doesn't think there is a force in the world that could stop Gio from telling him about Eva. "We'll see about that. See you later."

"Did you come here with someone?" Niccolò asks once Martino's phone is back in his pocket.

"One of my friends, we were in the same class. And you? With Maddalena, maybe?" It might not be quite the proper etiquette to ask straight away, but Martino’s just found out they might have lost ten years on a misunderstanding. He’d rather not have to deal with ten more.

The question startles Nico more than seems warranted. "Maddalena?"

"You got back together, right?"

Nico gives him a long, surprised look. "I didn't know you knew that."

“I saw the two of you together at a party. Actually, I think it wasn’t long after you sent that text.”

Realization slowly dawns in Niccolò’s expression. “Oh. I can see why you would have been angry. I’m sorry…” He looks ready to launch into explanations and apologies, so Martino cuts him off.

"It’s been ten years, Nico. It doesn’t matter now.”

“It didn’t last anyway,” Nico says after a pause. “With Maddi,” he adds at Martino’s confused look. “We broke up again not so long after that. For good.”

Martino huffs a short laugh. “So, it really was a shitty year all around?”

Stepping away from the railing, Niccolò rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, it was.”

The atmosphere between them has gotten heavy and Martino tries to steer the conversation to lighter topics. "So, are you still in Rome now?"

"No, actually, I went to college in Milan and then, I just stayed there. It was sort of a fresh start.”

"That’s good. I’ve actually never been there. But I’ve always been meaning to."

“You really should go. I’ve always wanted to live there and it didn’t disappoint.” Nico glances at the streets sprawled out below them before adding, “But lately, I’ve been considering relocating here.”

“Ah, you can take the Roman out of Rome…”

“Something like that,” Niccolò replies before glancing towards the entrance to the staircase. “Won’t your friend come looking for you if we stay here?"

"Oh, no. He's gone to rekindle an old flame over a drink."

With a shadow of a smile playing on his lips, Niccolò nods. "That seems to be the point of these things."

"I guess." Martino pushes himself off the railway and takes one step towards Nico to stand in front of him. "So," he begins as Nico gives him an expectant look, "How would you feel about a drink?"


End file.
